


you've got love in your hands

by actualflower



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi, The Warden and Zevran are going to eat Alistair alive, mentions of blood magic, very minor self-harm descriptions associated with blood magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into a regular morning for the Warden and Co. Leliana is tired, Alistair is unsuspecting, and Zevran and the Warden are plotting. The Blight is there, yes, but it can wait. For a few fleeting moments, the Blight can wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got love in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> If I could've done DA:O my way, I'd've had Zevran and my Warden seduce the pants off of Alistair (quite literally). Alas, my perfect view of Thedas is confined to my own headcanons.

It’s a vicious slippery slope. Alluvionis - such a grand name for such a small girl, she mused - never understood why, when performing blood magic, mages always used their palms. More control, maybe? More feeling there, she thought, more pain. She always used the ornamental dagger she kept tied to her staff across the backs of her arms - less pain there. Less control, too, but she was a “mage with more power than she knew what to do with,” as Irving had always said about her. Power was something she knew. Nevermind that she traded the future of some little boy for it. The thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth, but. She needed every edge she could get to win this. To end this.

The Blight had taken enough from her home.

She blinks awake in her tent, hints of glowing sun seeping through the cloth walls. The Fade decided to conjure a nice dream last night - she was home, with a mother she barely knew. A pie was cooling on the windowsill. The crest of a family she could never claim hung on the wall. She was tipped off the minute she heard the patter and laughter of other children in the home. Even in her faintest memories of earliest childhood, she could remember no family other than her mother.

Alluvionis stretches like a cat, shaking off the last dregs of sleep. She rolls off her cot and gets dressed, slipping on a simple robe and not wanting to fumble with the clasps of sturdier armor. `The strong scents of roasting breakfast drift into the tent, and she pushes aside the flaps, walking out to the fire. Alistair greets her with a smile, all warmth and sunshine; Leliana is curled around a mug of something that smells like Oghren’s, well, everything; and Zevran is blinking owlishly at the morning sun. It’s just barely peeking over the horizon this early in the morning.

“Is there any way, my dear Warden,” Zevran sighs out in a purr as he steps fully out of the tent and draws closer to Alluvionis, “that you might tell that damnable sun to leave us for just a few minutes longer?” He wraps his arms around her middle from behind, lightly resting his head on her shoulder.

She chuckles and leans back into his hold. “Not even I have that power, my lovely assassin.” Her own arms come to lay atop his, keeping him close. Alistair makes a gagging sound. Alluvionis makes a rude gesture at him, which sends Leliana into giggles. “Though I wish the sun would dip back below the hills for another, I don’t know, hour or two? Enough for a nap.” She leans back further into Zevran’s hold, closing her eyes. “A nice, archdemon-free nap.”

Alistair snorts at that. She cracks an eye at him. “What? Don’t look at me, oh mighty Warden, future Savior of Ferelden and Slayer of Archdemons.” His tone is ever playful, lacking real bite. He returns to tending the fire, stirring around whatever’s currently in the pot. The sun is already growing warmer on everyone’s skin, signaling the coming end to their easy early-morning peace. They all wish to drag it longer, let it capture a whole day with its lazy serenity. Alas, a warden’s (and her company’s) job is never done. Alluvionis begrudgingly slips from Zevran’s hold, leaving him with a peck on the cheek. He tosses her a wink as he returns to his tent to strap on his armor in favor of the loose cotton clothes he wore now. Leliana drains her mug, carefully unfolds herself from the ground, and slips back to her tent as well with a wave. Alistair remains at his place by the slowly dying fire, eyes trained on the dancing flames. Alluvionis walks over to him and sits, carefully shifting him and herself around until she was laying with her head in his lap. He says nothing at her ministrations; only the smile on his face belies his emotions.

“Alistair?” He looks down at the mention of his name. “Feed me.” He laughs at that, still reaching to stir the pot. “Also, why did anyone trust you with cooking? We’ve tasted your cooking. It’s bad.” He frowns down at her before unceremoniously shoving her off his lap. She glares at him playfully. “Rude.”

“Well, when a man’s honor is so tarnished by harsh words, Lady Amell, he must react in kind.” He pouts. “And it’s not my cooking. It’s Leliana’s. She was just making me stir. Like some kind of personal stirring servant. I feel demeaned.” He sniffles, once, for dramatic effect, and reaches up to wipe away an imaginary tear from his eye.

Alluvionis sits up and scoots closer, a sympathetic pout on her face. “Aw, you poor thing.” She leans closer. “I could kiss it all better, you know.”

He blushes crimson at that, almost tossing the wooden spoon he’s been using into the pot. “You’re ridiculous.”

She leans closer, close enough to smell the scents of leather and sword oil and lye soap that cling to him. “And you deserve a kiss for all your hard work.” She cups her hand around his chin, tilting it toward her and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. His cheeks flame bright as the fire in front of them.

“Now, why would you start the show without me, love?” Zevran appears behind them, tugging a glove onto his hand.

Alluvionis stands, all cat-like grace, and pecks him on the cheek. “Nothing to worry about, my dear; I’d never let you miss something so important.”

“You circle types, I swear.” He laughs, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m almost certain you were lying when you said you didn’t all dance naked under the moonlight.”

Alistair pipes up, confused. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Both of them turn their gazes towards him, eyes sparkling with mirth and… something else. Alistair didn’t care to think too hard about it. “Nothing you need to worry about,” Alluvionis told him before giving Zevran a final kiss and sauntering back to her tent.

She could hear Zevran making some thinly-veiled lewd comment to Alistair as she walked away, snickering under her breath. One of these days, she’d have both her boys together. Until then, there was a Blight to contend with.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is at kaytewrites, if you'd like to stop by! Thank you for reading! :D


End file.
